


lucky (we're in love in every way)

by nyachnyachn



Series: Million Pieces (TSV One-shots) [2]
Category: Twosetviolin
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:07:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21918802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyachnyachn/pseuds/nyachnyachn
Summary: A day in the life of Brett Yang and Eddy Chen.
Relationships: Eddy Chen/Brett Yang
Series: Million Pieces (TSV One-shots) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1578616
Comments: 4
Kudos: 66





	lucky (we're in love in every way)

**Author's Note:**

> please enjoy some domestic breddy
> 
> (oh, just a note, the third pov sometimes changes between eddy and brett so it may get confusing? idk)
> 
> title is from the song by jason mraz ft. colbie calliat

_07:41 A.M._

Brett opens his eyes to warmth and softness all over him, the blanket covering him to half of his face. He yawns. The room is a bit brighter, a blur of browns. Faintly, he can hear the sounds of birds chirping outside, signaling an early morning.

He's still a bit sleepy though, from working up late with Eddy until near dawn, managing their second world tour arrangements. From booking places and rooms, calling their musician friends for collaboration, to researching the trending culture for each country, preparing music arrangements and contents for the show and lots of back-up plans—they have been doing this for almost three months, on top of working on their videos and practicing pieces they have promised to the fans. It's exciting, but they forgot how cumbersome it could be.

Since most of them are done with, they plan to take a bit of a breather for two or three days before throwing themselves back in.

Since Brett can't go back to sleep once he wakes, he enjoys the rare silence the morning brings for a while.

When he feels more awake, he gets up. He's stopped halfway by a grip on his waist.

It's Eddy, still sleeping on his front, with the bags on his eyes more prominent than usual. His face is half-turned to Brett's side, half-smushed onto the pillow, as he lets out soft snores.

Smiling at that adorable sight, Brett kisses the top of his boyfriend's head and gently removes his arm. He chuckles when it pats the space he just vacated before flopping uselessly on another pillow, its owner continues his slumber.

Stretching, Brett stands then opens the curtains. Light immediately fills the bedroom through the wide windows.

He takes his eyeglasses and phone from the bedside drawer, checking the time. It's 8 on the dot.

He feels today's going to be a nice day.

_08:08 A.M._

After going through his morning routine, Brett takes the pile of dried laundry. He irons them all, folds some and hangs up the rest in their shared closet.

_08:37 A.M._

Brett opens his phone. There are a lot of messages from his friends and family. He replies to those, sometimes laughing at the funny jokes few have sent to a group. He replies to the work emails too.

Then he scrolls through TwoSet's social media. He reads and chuckles at some of the comments, especially the ones that mention their closeness in the recent photos and Instagram stories.

Sure, they probably won't ever announce their relationship to the public, as they had done even in their previous relationships. But they don't exactly hide it either. They've been going to dates, infrequently sharing the footage of those on their social media or videos. No holding hands or any sort of PDA though—that's only in the privacy of their own home or close friends and families—except if it could be passed off as a joke.

Besides, it's fun to tease the fans. Especially the shipper ones.

_09:00 A.M._

Brett goes to the practice room.

He takes out his violin. He tunes, does scales, then starts playing Tchaikovsky Violin Concerto. Having played this so many times, his fingers move over the strings with ease. Thinking about what kind of interpretation he wants to give to the fans on 2K subs, he listens to his playing and experiments and repeats and immerses himself in it.

_10:03 A.M._

Satisfied, he stops.

His stomach grumbles at the same time.

Oh yeah, he forgot he hasn't eaten yet.

He checks the fridge, takes out some eggs, a package of bacon and some vegetables. He places it on the counter, then begins to cook while humming and moving to the tune of Khachaturian's Masquerade Suite.

_10:25 A.M._

Sunlight hits him right in the face and Eddy wakes up with a groan. He puts a pillow over his head. _Is it morning already?_

A sound of door opening and footsteps coming closer. "Eddy, wake up. Breakfast's ready."

"No," he groans again, longer this time. Voice muffled by the pillow, he asks, "Wha' time's it?"

"Ten thirty. Come on, dude, I'm starving." Brett takes the only thing that separates him from the offending light. Though, Eddy is immediately hit by a heavenly aroma that, when he opens his eyes in a startling awareness, is from the cup on Brett's hand. "I bring coffee."

"You're a godsend." He flails his arms to get it, but Brett steps back.

"Get up first. I don't want you to spill any on the bed. The stain will be hard to clean."

Eddy obeys, Brett gives him the coffee, then he does the morning routine before following the other to the dining room.

_10:33 A.M._

They eat together in comfortable silence, only filled by the clinking of utensils.

_10:51 A.M._

After cleaning the table, washing the dishes, and drying them on the rack, both of them move to the living room.

Eddy goes to sit on the sofa and, naturally, Brett plops down on the space between Eddy's legs with a notebook on his lap and two pens in his hands. He leans back and Eddy's arms settle around his waist, his head on top of Brett's shoulder. Both make themselves comfortable as they go over their shooting plans for this week: the scripts for the skits, the pieces they will play, which film they will review-slash-roast, etc. If there's any ideas crossing through their mind, they throw it out in the open, discuss then jot it down.

Sometimes they get derailed into talking about another matter entirely, but that's fine.

_11:28 A.M._

"Camera?"

"Good. The battery is full. Mics?"

"Sounds good."

"Okay. Let's start with the first one—"

_01:21 P.M._

They're almost finished with rechecking the last recordings when they both look up and ask, "Hey, wanna get bubble tea?"

They pause, staring at each other for a second, before bursting out in laughter.

A few minutes later, they send the recording files to the editor, along with some notes. Then, they close the laptop and grab their bags.

_01:33 P.M._

It's summer in Brisbane now. When they get outside, in a short-sleeve shirt and jeans, they're hit with blazing heat from the sun and the dry wind.

The store isn't that far from their apartment but, with unbearable temperature like this, they decide to use their car. They crank the AC to the fullest. The whole ride, Brett lets Eddy fiddling with the radio station. It plays some pop songs he doesn't—and probably won't ever—remember the title of, even as his fingernails drum along the beat.

02:01 P.M.

After getting their bubble tea, they walk to the nearest diner to get lunch. They take a booth on the farthest corner of the room, which can give them a little bit of privacy.

They eat and talk and laugh about nothing and everything, both phones muted on the table, until it's past 3.

_03:28 P.M._

Eddy opens the door to their apartment, immensely grateful for the blast of cool air on his face. "God, it was so _hot_ outside. I need a shower."

"Yeah." Brett absentmindedly pulls the collar of his shirt. "Shower sounds nice."

They take a shower together.

And end up taking up longer than 30 minutes because they should've known that distraction is bound to happen in this kind of situation.

_04:06 P.M._

"I think we promise to not leave hickeys on obvious places. Like, anything around the face and neck."

"Just put some foundation on it."

"Eddy."

"You have done the same to me a few times and I did just that."

"That's before the rules."

"Well, we break the rules all the time. And you didn't complain when I did it then."

"Of course I couldn't. What did you think I was doing?"

"Getting—"

"That's a rhetoric question."

"You asked." Eddy shrugs. "I'll cover them before every shooting until it's gone, okay? Now, let's practice. I haven't practiced seriously today."

_04:14 P.M._

They practice for almost two hours. They do a few short repertoires in between, which maybe will be incorporated in their future shows.

Once, they took a short break to update on their instastory.

06:10 P.M.

Eddy continues reading that one book—something about not giving a fuck which, honestly, is all they've been doing these past few years. While, on his side, Brett scrolls on his phone, changing between reading the new updates of some manga and replying to various messages on both his personal and their shared accounts.

Piano melodies from Gymnopédie No. 1 are playing softly in the background from Eddy's phone.

07:12 P.M.

They cook dinner together.

Eddy's cooking skill has improved after living with Brett, though not so much that the latter could entrust him on anything more complex than cutting, boiling, and frying simple things. The last time he did anything other than that, they spend almost two hours just to clean the mess.

So that's why Brett is stirring on a pan of sweet and sour chicken while Eddy is putting the rice on the plates.

07:38 P.M.

They bring their food to the living room, placing it on the coffee table as they sit on the sofa.

Taking the TV remote, Eddy scours through the channels and settles on Netflix. Time to catching up on some new seasons.

09:25 P.M.

Four episodes in, they stop to clean the dishes.

When they go back, Brett takes out the consoles in the bottom rack.

"Smash Bros?"

"Sure."

10:07 P.M.

"Fuck, shit, _fuck!_ Damn it!" Brett shouts indignantly as Eddy beats him for the 7th time. He throws his console at Eddy, who deftly catches and puts it on the table. "You're too good at this, what the fuck."

Posing like a smug asshole, Eddy points on his black shirt, which is the one with 'geniuses are born not created' printed on it.

Brett rolls his eyes.

"Aw, babe, don't be angry." Scooting closer, Eddy pokes at his cheek and Brett swats at his hand. "Here, let me give you a hug."

"Eddy, I swear to god—"

10:49 P.M.

Cuddling on the couch after a playful squabble with Eddy's laptop open on the coffee table, they're watching videos from YouTube's recommendation. It's loading another one when they receive an email from their editor, containing an edited video from four days ago. They stop to review it, which turns out as great as usual, and tell her so in the reply along with some words of encouragement. Five minutes later, in the middle of uploading, she answers with "thanks dads here's the progress of my suffering"—which is basically the progress on the editing of the next video.

It's strangely funny sometimes that they feel like they truly have a daughter, who they haven't met properly yet, in form of their current editor.

11:12 P.M.

They decide to have another practice session for half an hour.

Thankfully, they have a soundproof practice room, so they won't be worried whether or not they are bothering the neighbors with unpleasant noises. Because it turns into goofing around, them doing a lot of shredding and producing scratchy sounds from their violins, rather than actual practicing.

11:49 A.M.

Leaning halfway on Eddy's shoulder, Brett watches as his boyfriend clicks on another K-Pop music video on his phone. Brett closes his eyes, letting a stream of incomprehensible words and catchy tunes wash over him.

12:36 A.M.

Brett jerks awake. He rubs his eyes, letting out a wide yawn. At his peripheral, he sees Eddy does the same.

"What time is it?"

"Half past midnight."

"I think we should turn in."

"Yeah." Eddy pockets both of their phones. He stands, then grabs Brett's hands to pull him up, and Brett immediately leans again on his shoulder. "Hey, you're heavy."

"You could carry me bridal-style a month ago."

"For two seconds before we fell. Come on." Eddy pats his shoulder. "Do you want me to drag you to bed?"

Brett sleepily nods.

Even as Eddy sighs, Brett could hear the affection in his voice when he says, "Okay."

And then proceeds to drag him in the most uncaring way possible, cackling as Brett curses at him.

_12:44 A.M._

Eddy gives a chaste peck on Brett's lips before he buries himself into the blanket. "Goodnight, Brett."

Mind already drifting off, Brett hums sleepily. "G'night, Eddy."

_01:00 A.M._

Soft breath can be heard on the bed where two bodies lay close together in the dark, sound asleep.


End file.
